


A Final Death

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, First Time, Gen, M/M, admitting love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds a cure for the Mark, but knows Cas and Sam won't approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Final Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jen_misbehaving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jen_misbehaving/gifts).



> Had a dark thought, but dismissed it. Then they killed Charlie.  
> Welcome to my headcannon on how the show ended before they killed Charlie and I stopped watching it.

Cas left the college library empty-handed, but determined not to be disappointed. They were close to ridding Dean of the Mark of Cain; they had to be. Empty hands were good, as they meant Cas could dig out his cell phone and turn the volume back up. When distracted with research, he had a habit of missing the vibrations of an incoming call, so he wasn't surprised to see he had a voice mail. His skills with technology had greatly improved, and it was easy for him to pull up the voice mail.

"Hey Cas, did you find anything? If not, I want you to look at this thing I found. Old spell book in a curse box. I'd ask Sam, but he's off looking for something else. I think he is, he muttered something that sounded like sugar cane, so he might be on a tropical beach somewhere. Whatever, come by when you can." 

A rather long message for Dean, which meant he was lonely. Dean was a social person, even when his memories weren't straight out of Hell and he needed the noise to distract him. He also knew better than to distract Cas when he was close to a solution, but Cas wasn't anywhere near a breakthrough. If he let himself think about it, in the silence of his lonely world, he knew there would be no cure. 

Why would there be written instructions for removing what most humans thought of as a metaphor? Wouldn't Cain have exhausted every resource instead of waiting for a successor to kill him? No, Cas couldn't let himself think like that, as he had to save the man who taught him to fight in hopeless situations. Maybe the bunker had given up a secret. If not, there was probably a reason it was in a curse box. Cas got into his car and went to rescue Dean. 

The music was loud enough to make announcing his arrival difficult, but also made it easy to find Dean. The kitchen was the source of the music, as well as a smell that made Cas' mouth water. Dean was doing dishes as he bounced to the music, and Cas watched that as he felt his way to the radio. He had to look away from this vision of a happy Dean to turn the radio down. 

"Cas, excellent timing, as always." Dean seemed happy, a more genuine happiness than he'd shown in a while. 

"Hello, Dean." 

"In ten minutes, the pumpkin pie comes out of the oven. The apple pie should have cooled enough to eat by now, if we scoop some vanilla ice cream on it." 

"You made pie?" Cas asked, smile almost as big as Dean's. 

"Yeah, always wanted to learn, but never had the time or the oven. That's what I've been doing since I found the book; this is my forth attempt." Dean dug clean plates out of the drainer, so Cas turned and got the ice cream out of the freezer. "The first few were crap, but I'm getting better. Not as good as Mom's, but this should be edible, and I can cross making pies off my bucket list." 

Cas started to ask, but then in came to him, one of those movies Metatron had downloaded into his brain. A list of things to do before you die. 

"We are going to rid you of the Mark, Dean." 

"Well, if we do or if we don't, I can now make my own pie." 

"A triumph worthy of celebration," Cas conceded. 

He joined Dean at the table when Dean set out two plates of pie with a scoop of ice cream. Putting the ice cream back in the freezer, Dean handed Cas a glass of milk before sitting down with his own. Feeling Dean’s eyes on him, Cas took his first bite. Sweetness, spice, and the flaky crust burst across his tongue. Cas took a moment to let the taste overwhelm him before rendering his verdict. 

“I find I am glad to be human enough to taste this pastry.” 

Dean grinned and dug into his own piece, pleased by Cas’ words. 

They ate in silence, secretly enjoying the moans of pleasure the other man made, until the timer dinged. Dean’s plate might have been licked clean at some point, but there weren’t very many crumbs on Cas’ either. Cas finished his milk as he watched Dean move around the kitchen, like a dancer or a really productive butterfly. Cas was imagining Dean with brightly colored wings when he followed their fluttering into unconsciousness. 

҉ ҉ 

Waking with a grunt, Cas didn’t take too long to realize he was in the dungeon. He was also handcuffed to a chair, a situation that wouldn’t have stopped an angel. They weren’t even spelled handcuffs, showing just how useless he was. The only thing keeping him trapped was that he hadn’t taken those lessons from Dean on lock picking. 

“Dean.” Cas muttered, when his saw his erstwhile teacher. 

Dean looked up from where he was mixing spell ingredients in a large bowl, but the smile and easy banter from before was long gone. “Cas, have you found a way to get your Grace back? Or at least not die when you run out? Or have you been wasting time on my problems?” 

Cas knew Dean wouldn’t like the answer to that, so he didn’t answer. “What did you find in the curse box?” 

“I might have exaggerated about that part, to get you to hurry your sweet ass over here to try and save me. It was a cardboard box of books the Men of Letters hadn’t sorted yet.” Dean shrugged and moved to stand just outside of Cas’ reach. “Look at me with angel eyes. Do I still have a soul?” 

Cas couldn’t lie without knowing the answer Dean wanted, or what he needed to use the information for. Dean’s soul was still so beautiful, even as the darkness worked to crush it, that Cas used his Grace to look. The darkness of the Mark was trying to cover it, but through the cracks his soul was still a shining example. It even looked a little brighter than when he’d left; Dean had found something that gave him hope. It probably wasn’t all from learning to make pie, so Cas decided to go along. If Dean needed his remaining Grace to defeat the Mark, Cas would gladly give it, even his human life. 

“Yes, Dean, your soul is still there. Under attack, but still fighting, as you always do.” 

“Well, that’s a relief; otherwise I would have drugged your milk for nothing.” 

“Why did you think that was necessary? I would have helped in any way I could.” 

“I found a copy of Abbadon’s recipe book, the one she used to store souls in jars.” Dean moved back to the mixing bowl, and the old book almost hidden by the ingredients around it. 

Cas couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a jar to hold Dean’s soul, so he wasn’t taking it out to allow the Mark free reign of his body. 

“There was also stuff in the book about how to use a soul to power a demon’s twisted version of Grace. I’m willing to bet that a freely given soul will do the same for an angel.” 

“Dean, that will kill you, and it might not work. It probably won’t work, and there are other ways to keep me alive.” 

“Cas, is that the great strategist talking, or the rebel who gave everything for little old me?” 

“Either, both, whatever answer it takes to make you stop this.” 

“I am stopping this, Cas, all of it. Tell Sam to give you the speech he gave me before attempting to die to close off the Gates of Hell. I’m stopping the whole cycle of dying to save each other, because when this is done, there won’t be anything left of me to save.” 

“Exactly, Dean, you can’t do this, you can’t leave me here to live without you. I love you, I always have.” Cas’ declared at long last, hoping that would be enough to jolt Dean out of his determined actions. “I love you in the human way. All those things you do with women, I’d like you to do to me.” 

Dean did look up, tears filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the worst timing.” 

Blinking away the tears and wiping up any that spilled, Dean went back to what his was doing. Carefully, so as to not lose any of the powder, Dean picked up the bowl. He walked to just out of Cas’ reach and began to read the Enochian. His pronunciation was perfect, and Cas was on his feet, reaching out to rip the book away or spill the spell. The chair he was handcuffed to was bolted to the floor, and with his human strength he couldn’t move the chair, so he began to yell. 

“I won’t let you do this! Even if you succeed, I won’t accept your soul, it’ll only recharge my sister’s Grace and I’ll just die later!” Cas kept yelling his reasons, things he had no proof of as he’d never heard of this even being attempted before. 

Dean did stop talking, his eyes growing huge, and then he was coughing without any air behind it, choking. 

“Dean!” Cas screamed, so desperate to help that he yanked his hand through the cuff, breaking bones to get to Dean, so Dean could kiss him. 

Slowly, Cas realized the coughing was a fake, a way to get him to not think, so he would do as Dean needed. If this was to be their first kiss and their last, Cas would give it all he could. There was the moist warmth of humanity, and a selfless love that poured into Cas, human emotions he was only learning to understand that his remaining Grace interpreted for him. It was filling him, touching every part of him, teaching him just how much Dean loved him. 

It ended, slowly, as Dean seemed to be slipping away. But even as Dean’s body fell, the love was still there, touching the Grace. Cas’ borrowed Grace wasn’t listening to him and wouldn’t reject the sacrifice that had been made. It was pulling Dean’s offered soul into it, merging, mating, making something entirely new. Cas felt dizzy, overwhelmed, but a back hand to his face sent him spinning away. 

The demon facing him had Dean’s body, but nothing of his soul remained in him. His green eyes were black and would be for the rest of eternity. Even as his Grace changed, it powered him, using all the strength of Dean’s soul to fix his broken hand. Dean’s body was trapped in the devil’s trap, something he had to know when he walked forward to give Cas his soul. The demon was also low on power, not having Dean’s soul. That it would fix, as soon as it found some humans to kill, if Cas gave it that chance. Cas decided not to give him that chance. 

Cas reached out his senses and found wings on his true form once again. They didn’t feel right just yet, so his flight was clumsy, but he retrieved the First Blade and returned to the bunker. The trapped demon was snarling at him and threw himself at the barrier when he recognized the First Blade. Getting up, it tried again, throwing itself at the barrier of the Devil’s Trap. This second attempt seemed to go better, but still the demon looked around for a better answer. It wasn’t a mindless beast, though it was lacking Dean’s awareness of the world around him. 

Cas stepped up to the edge of the trap, as if he was mindless of how the demon had almost powered through. With a lighting fast move, the demon threw himself at the barrier again, but Cas was ready, the First Blade held up at a chest level. It went through the barrier and the demon’s chest, but it didn’t kill the demon. It grappled with Cas, trying to get the First Blade out of Cas’ grip so that it could wield it. Cas fought to keep the blade in the demon’s chest, pulling it to the side in an effort to cut into the beast’s heart. 

Reaching for where he kept his angel blade in the other realms, Cas grasped it in his left hand and jabbed it into the black eyes that he hated. The demon howled and thrashed, and Cas noticed his blade looked different. He couldn’t focus on that now though, he pulled the First Blade, slicing open the chest he’d so lovingly put back together after Hell. 

The demon shrieked and howled, until it cracked. Fire split Dean’s body like an eggshell, and black ash fell to the ground. Cas’ angel blade clattered to the ground, along with the demon killing knife. The handle of the First Blade was still in his hand, but the blade was gone, dissolved into ash along with the demon of the Mark. 

“Cas?” Sam asked, voice almost buried under emotions and questions. 

“We have destroyed the Mark of Cain.” Cas reported, his voice sounding strange to his ears. 

“Dean?” 

It was natural for Sam to ask this, but Cas found the answer eluded him. “Dean gave me his soul, to renew my Grace.” 

“How do we get him back? 

“I have my wings again, Sam. I can look into the archive of Heaven, but I feel this is a unique situation. I do not expect Heaven to hold the answer.” Cas found himself hugging Sam before he knew it, some instinctive need to ease Sam’s suffering. Caring about emotional suffering was not part of the angel he had been before. “This probably won’t make you feel any better, but he is now part of me. He is not a separate person any longer, so I wish to tell you to get a real life. Become Bobby from the Bunker, even though I am not sure what that means.” 

Sam’s legs gave out, and he was collapsing into the hug. Cas easily supported the larger man with his Grace. “He’s telling me to use the resources of the bunker to direct the other hunters. So I can be safe and still help people, maybe finally have the stable life I’ve always wanted. Just like he was more concerned with helping you than himself.” 

“His selflessness saved me, by allowing him to become part of me. Though I feel strange, not myself. Perhaps it is because I am no longer Cas, but now some combination of Dean and Castiel.” 

Sam gave a sobbing chuckle and found his legs again. “Guess I got my Destiel after all.” 

“Your what?” 

“Later, Cas. I need to mourn, I guess.” 

“I did make, or rather, Dean made your favorite pie, to help with your mourning.” 

Sam laughed again, though it was still heavy with other emotions. “Sounds like him, pumpkin pie to fix everything.” 

“I know how he made it, and can make more as you require. Also, as a full angel again, even if my Grace is different than most angels, I can protect you in ways Dean could only dream of.” 

“Of course Dean dreamed of better ways to protect me. I’m going to my room.” Sam almost muttered, before leaving the dungeon. 

The angel let him go and turned to clean up the dungeon. Later, he would drop the handle of the First Blade into a volcano, wondering why they didn’t try that before. For now, he disposed of the ash from the demon, and put the spell ingredients away as easily as if he’d been the one to pull them from the shelves. Returning to the kitchen, he cleaned that and had another piece of pie. He almost cried when all he could taste was molecules. 

҉ ҉ 


End file.
